Lucky In Love (23 page)

“Oh, my,” Jane mumbled. She didn’t give a royal rat’s ass that Slade Luckadeau hadn’t had a perfect little life. She was the hired help, not his future psychiatrist.

“Hey, you’re pretty good at stirring up those brownies. You got the recipe in your head or something?”

“Yes, ma’am. My momma taught me to cook. She said I needed to learn everything from the kitchen to the barn from the ground up,” Jane said.

“I sure enough did the right thing when I hired you. God really did give me a lucky break when you got off that bus this morning.”

Jane slid the brownies into the preheated oven and went to work on the casseroles. They’d follow the brownies into the oven in thirty minutes and be steaming hot when the crew came in from the hayfields for lunch. Cooking was her hobby and she was good at it. After all, she’d had the best teacher in the world for sixteen years.

“You want me to set the table while they’re cooking?” she asked Nellie.

Nellie shook her head. “They’ll eat out on the deck. Come on and I’ll show you how to set things up for them.”

“Why don’t they eat at the table?” Jane asked.

“It’d take a week to fumigate the house with that much man-sweat coming inside. Winter time we only have a skeleton crew. They eat in the house. Rest of the time they eat on the deck. Besides, they like it that way. If they was to come inside and get all cool, it would give them a heart attack to go back out in the afternoon heat.”

She led the way through sliding glass doors in the kitchen nook out onto an enormous deck. The deck covered the entire space between the two wings that made the U-shaped, one-story ranch house. Yellow and orange marigolds, purple, pink, and white petunias, multicolored lantana, violet vinca, and red impatients splashed color around the deck. Two ancient pecan trees and a hackberry provided shade for the yard and the deck.

Nellie opened two doors to a closet on the north side of the deck. Disposable plates, cheap cutlery, jelly glasses, and rolls of paper towels were all neatly arranged. “This is kind of like the tail end of a chuck wagon. Designed it myself years ago when I got tired of hauling everything in and out every day. We use paper plates but I’ve never learned to like plastic forks, so I bought some cheap stainless at the dollar store.”

She handed a stack of divided Styrofoam plates to Jane and motioned toward an eight-foot table covered with a vinyl cloth. “We set it up buffet style on this table. They help themselves. We’ll need bowls today for the beans and peaches; better open two packages. There’s a blue plastic caddy I put the silverware in. Glasses go on the table with ice already in them. Four pitchers of tea, two of lemonade and two of water go down the middle of the table along with jars of picante sauce and salt and pepper shakers. It’s a constant job keeping the liquid in the pitchers. They come in here with a big thirst after working all morning. Most of them carry a half-gallon jug of some kind that they’ll refill before they head out again, so we’ll make lots of tea and lemonade.”

“How many glasses?” “Twenty-four.” Jane whistled under her breath. “Shame, ain’t it? Used to take fifty men to do the work in the summer but with all this new-fangled equipment and those big, round hay bales, we get by with less than half that. Don’t know if we’re saving money or not. Equipment requires more upkeep than men.”

“But it sweats less,” Jane said.

“Smart as well as handy in the kitchen. I think I might be goin’ to like you, Jane Day,” Nellie said.

Slade heard the dinner bell sounding across the fields and rode his horse to the edge of the yard, where he tethered it to the fence. He pulled off his leather gloves and headed for the pump to wash his hands and face. The cold well water felt good but did nothing to appease the turmoil still rolling about in his heart and soul. Besides being upset with his grandmother, now he’d have to listen to Kristy whine and bitch about another woman in the house. While he dried off on a long length of paper towels, he sighed. Kristy had been looking for a job ever since she got laid off over at the leather factory in Nocona. She was going to pitch a real hissy fit when she found out Granny had hired someone right off the street and not her.

“You sick?” Vince asked. “Might as well be,” Slade answered. “Can I have your share of the brownies?”

“No, she said that new girl—the one she hired over in Wichita Falls this morning—made them. If you’re too sick to eat, I’m layin’ claim to your share.”

“Granny made brownies?”

“I’m not sick to my stomach but I’m going to be sick of listening to Kristy,” Slade answered honestly.

“Well, shoot. They’re fresh out of the oven and smell like heaven,” Vince said.

Jane watched two dozen men wash up, dispose of their paper towels in a big trash can beside the pump, and load their plates and bowls to the brim with lunch. They sat at three eight-foot tables covered in the same red-and-white checked vinyl as the buffet table and talked about the work they’d gotten done as well as what they planned to do until dark.

“Slade, you need anything from the feed store or anywhere else in Nocona? I’m having Jane drive me over for groceries this afternoon,” Nellie asked above the drone of the men’s voices.

Slade shot Jane another mean look and nodded. “Sure, I’ll make a list for the feed store, and would you go by the flower shop and send Kristy half a dozen roses? Sign the card, Just thinking of you, Slade.”

Jane stiffened to keep from shuddering. How many times had John sent her roses with a similar note? In the six weeks they’d dated before he proposed she’d had fresh roses all the time. One vase-full scarcely had time to wilt before another arrived at her desk. In her mind roses meant a first-rate con job, not love.

Slade held up a tea pitcher. “This needs a refill.”

Jane reached to take it from his hand. He held on tightly and whispered, “Pack your bags when you get back from the grocery store. I’m taking you to Wichita Falls as soon as supper is over.”

“In your dreams, cowboy. You didn’t hire me and you can’t fire me.”

“I can make you miserable.”

Everyone stopped talking and silence filled the yard. Even the birds stopped their singing and the crickets were quiet.

“I’ve been made miserable before and by full fledged professionals. I reckon compared to them you’re just an amateur.”

Vince chuckled. “I think you met your match, Slade.”

Heat that had nothing to do with the thermometer crept up Slade’s neck. “Why would you stay somewhere that you’re not wanted?”

“Just call it determination. Nellie hired me. When she’s dissatisfied with my performance she’ll fire me and I’ll leave. What you think or don’t think of me doesn’t matter a damn bit to me.”

“Whew, she’s spunky. You make these brownies?” A short Mexican man piped up right next to Slade.

Her eyes and face softened when she looked away from Slade. “Yes, sir, I did and the casseroles. Tomorrow we’re having turkey and dressing with pumpkin pie for dessert.”

“By the way, I’m the foreman of the Double L. Name is Marty. And if he fires you, honey, you come talk to me. I’ll hire you right back.”

Slade snorted. “Looks like I’m outvoted by a whole passel of fools.”

“Enough bickering,” Nellie said. “Jane is here to stay as long as she wants. If she proves out to be as good as I think she is, I’m thinkin’ of going to Ellen’s out in Amarillo for a week. So put that in your pipe and smoke it, Slade.”

He rolled his eyes. Kristy would really go up in flames at that idea. Him alone in the house with another woman—that should throw ice on their budding relationship. They’d been dating for six months and he’d been entertaining notions of taking it to the next level. Granny wasn’t real happy with that idea, but he was thirty years old and he wanted a family. Kristy came with two little girls. He’d have a jump start with those benefits.

He threw up his hands in defeat. “Have it your way but you’re going to find I’m right when it’s all said and done.” The men finished eating, threw their dirty plates and bowls in a trash can at the end of the buffet table, put the cutlery in a plastic dish pan, and lined the glasses up beside it. They claimed chairs, a spot of shade under the hackberry and pecan trees, or chaise lounges and shut their eyes—all but Slade, who toted the dishpan into the house. Jane and Nellie each carried half a dozen glasses, waitress style, and followed him. The wind shifted and Jane got a solid whiff of Slade in all his musky, sweaty glory. She understood fully why Nellie wouldn’t want two dozen like that in her dining room. It would take months to clean out that much testosterone. She wasn’t sure there was that much air freshener on the market. Nellie set the glasses down and headed back out to cart the bean pot inside. “I’m serious. I’m not teasing. I do not want you here. It’s going to complicate my life beyond words,” he said.

“I’m here for six weeks. Sorry if it makes your life less than perfect,” she said.

“She’s paying you a hundred dollars a week. I’ll write you a check for a thousand to leave tonight,” he said.

“No thank you.” “Two thousand. Name your price.” “You don’t have enough money to make me leave.” “Why?” “That is my business. I’m staying right here for six weeks and then I promise I’ll get out of your way. And darlin’, don’t worry about me causing a problem with you and your precious lady friend. I’ve sworn off all men for eternity. I’ll tell her that if you want me to.”

“What makes you think there’s a lady friend?”

“The way you are actin’ tells me there is. A woman would give you hell if another woman moved in on her property. Bring her around. I’ll tell her I’m damn sure not a threat.”

He pointed his finger at her. “You stay away from Kristy.”

She slapped it away. “Don’t be issuing orders. I’m not here to cause trouble. You stay out of my way and I’ll be damn sure I don’t get in yours. I’ll tolerate your piggish ways and you can pretend I’m just a slave girl. I don’t care how you handle it, but I’m not leaving.”

Slade narrowed his blue eyes until they were little more than slits. “You are running from the law. That’s why you’re calling yourself Jane Day. What did you do?”

“Believe what you want. I’ve got to help Nellie. Conversation is over.”

“I’m calling the sheriff of Montague County and seeing if you are wanted anywhere in the state,” he said.

“Want me to dial the number for you?” “You’re bluffing.” “Then call my bet and see if the sheriff of Monty

County has a thing on me,” she threw over her shoulder as she disappeared through the doors.

He took a cell phone from his shirt pocket and dialed the familiar number. He’d grown up with the sheriff. They played poker the first Friday of every month together. Jane Day would be sitting in jail in an hour.

“Hey, Charlie, this is Slade. Got a little favor to ask. Granny hired a woman going by the name of Jane Day. Just picked her up at the bus stop in Wichita Falls this morning and come dragging her home like a stray pup. Please tell me you’ve got some warrant on her so I can get rid of her.”

“Give me a minute,” Charlie said.

Slade heard typing on keys and background noise of the deputies coming and going from the sheriff’s office.

“Sorry old buddy. Haven’t got anything new on anyone for the past three weeks. Did get a fax this morning about some rich broad over in Mississippi who might be headed this way. She run out on her wedding the night before the big ceremony. Her stepdad says it’s not like her and he’s afraid she might have been kidnapped. Her name is Ellacyn Hayes though. Twenty-four years old. Description says she’s…”

Slade butted in. “That couldn’t be this woman. She’s working for a hundred dollars a week and room and board. This lady looks like she’d be pushing it to be nineteen and there’s no way she’s some rich broad from Mississippi. She don’t have that kind of accent and she’s wearing faded jeans and a T-shirt. Rich woman wouldn’t be dressed like that. I figured her for a runaway from east Texas and was hoping she’d robbed a bank or a liquor store.”

“Sorry old pal. How’s things going with Kristy?”

“Fine until now. She’s going up in smoke when she hears there’s a woman living here.”

Charlie chuckled. “Women! Can’t live with ’em and it’s against the law to shoot ’em.”

“You got that right.”

“Who are you talking to?” Nellie asked as she and Jane toted in leftovers.

Slade snapped the phone shut. “Charlie.” “This ain’t a poker night,” Nellie said. “Would that be the sheriff of Monty County?” Jane raised an eyebrow. It was all she could do to keep from bolting and running. John would find the phone. He was such a smooth talker he’d have the sheriff out with a posse hunting her down for him.

“Montague County, not Monty,” Nellie said.

“Yes, it was the sheriff. He’s one of my friends.” Slade narrowed his eyes and slowly went from her toes to her hair. Jane was certainly not a rich runaway bride. But kidnapping might be an option in the game. He could hire someone to nab her and keep her the six weeks she kept mentioning, then turn her loose. Whatever they would charge would be a small price to pay.

“Why were you talking to Charlie?” Nellie asked. “Slade, you weren’t asking him about Jane, were you?” “Yes, I was and it appears she’s not wanted by the law. Only person they’ve got anything on right now is some runaway bride from over in Mississippi. Charlie says her father is looking for her.” He watched Jane carefully but she didn’t move a muscle; just kept running water to wash up the glasses and cutlery from dinner.

“You reckon your father is looking for you?” Nellie asked.

“My father died when I was ten years old. I don’t suppose he’s looking for me on this side of the Pearly Gates,” Jane said honestly.

“Okay, Slade. Enough is enough. I don’t give a damn what Kristy thinks of my decision to hire Jane, if that’s what is sticking in your craw. The woman rubs me wrong anyway and she’d want to bring those two little girls to work with her every day and they don’t do anything but whine about being bored. Besides she can’t cook and I don’t want to listen to her constant prattle when she drives me. Jane works for me. She doesn’t work for you.”

Nellie put the leftover beans in the refrigerator. Slade made a gun with his forefinger and thumb and shot an imaginary bullet at Jane while his grandmother wasn’t looking. Jane pretended to catch it in her hand and toss it in the dishwater as she turned her back on him.